credit: Brandon Mendoza
Greg Freeman deals in biblical deluges, apocalyptic fever dreams, Floridian miscreants, and green mountain malaise. On his excellent debut LP “I Looked Out”, Gregs’s voice takes center stage, creaking, crooning, and cutting through clouds of static. The songs are linked together by a palpable urgency, whether it is the punch-in-the-face, careening momentum of “Tower,” the guitar squall of “Souvenir Heart,” or the singalong finale of “Palms.” Greg’s strong narrative songwriting is equally effective chronicling the demise of a 1920s ocean liner as it is documenting his own interpersonal uncertainties. Based in Burlington, Vermont, the songwriter has played in numerous bands in the city's burgeoning DIY scene. While the marriage of Freeman’s fierce guitar playing and vocals catalyze his live performance, horns, pedal steel, and strings take his songs to an unfamiliar and blustering landscape, and places you right in the middle of some dusty brass-laden crossroads.
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